You must be careful when you decide to put a personalized license plate on the back of your car.

First of all, people are going to notice it. They can’t help but notice it.

They pass you on the interstate and form a judgement as they stare.

Some “personalized drivers” put their woman’s name on the plate. Maybe their nickname. Or favorite rock group. Or favorite team. Whatever it is, they’re trying to make a statement.

And some simply want everybody to know exactly what they do when they go to work each day.

That’s me.

My license plate? It’s right here on the page for you to see.

SPTSWRTR.

It quickly lets everyone know that I have a job to be envied.

I’ll let my 6-year old, Jack, take it from here.

He was in kindergarten when a teacher asked, “What does your mother do, Jack?”

“Oh, she’s a school teacher,” he chirped.

“And what job does your father have?”

“Uh, he goes to ballgames for a living.”

“He does what?”

“He goes to ballgames for a living.”

She gave him a confused look. Going to ballgames for a living is a job?

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There are a lot of sports guys who go to ballgames for a living in Salisbury this weekend. The National Sportswriters and Sportscasters Convention brings them all together for three days leading up to the banquet Monday night.

Bob Ryan is one of the chosen few. He was voted National Sportswriter of the Year.

Now, is Bob Ryan any different from me — I mean, besides his paycheck?

No. He goes to ballgames for a living. He just writes about players on a different level.

On his level, he must deal with spoiled rotten millionaires who think they should get major coverage for the simple fact “I make a lot of money.”

On my level, I deal with parents, who think their daughters and sons should get major coverage because, well, “they’re my daughters and sons.”

On Ryan’s level, he talks with Dick Schaap on ESPN, reaching practically every household in America.

On my level, I talk on a radio station that loses so many watts when the sun goes down that it’s hard to pick it up if you’re not within two houses of the radio station.

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I do cover ACC basketball. And that’s something to be envious of whether you’re a sportswriter or a sports fan.

When I travel out of state with the family, which includes my New York Italian Catholic wife from Long Island (who played some foreign sport called field hockey in college, by the way), people always notice my license plate and begin asking questions.

Once, at the Bethlehem, Pa. McDonald’s (I wonder if Ryan eats at McDonald’s), an old guy stood behind my car staring at the license plate.

“You a sportswriter?”

Duh.

“Where are you from?”

I didn’t say“North Carolina” (which should have been obvious since he was looking at the plate. And they say southerners are slow?) Rather, I announced, “I’m from Tobacco Road.”

“You really are a sportswriter,” he laughed. “Do you cover Carolina and Duke?”

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Yes I do and that’s one thing that I might have over Bob Ryan. I live in Hoop Heaven.

I also live in a place where we honor sportswriters. For one weekend, there are no snubs from the pros, no tongue-lashings from the mothers — just a weekend of fun. And don’t think for a minute that the ones who show up don’t appreciate it.

Here are just a few of the words written to the NSSA from last year’s winning sportswriters and sportscasters:

• “Everything was first class.” — Doug Chapman of Rhode Island.
• “What a thrill and honor it was to be there.” — Michael Grimm of Iowa.
• “Thanks so much for helping me enjoy one of the most memorable weekends of my life.” — Mark McCarter of Alabama.
• “I was completely blown away,” — Chris Kelley of Vermont.

Of course Kelley was blown away. It’s not often that sportswriters actually get a pat on the back.

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Salisbury, North Carolina gives sportswriters and sportscasters that opportunity.

And it gives guys like me, who work for the Salisbury Post, a chance to mingle a little bit with someone from, say, the New York Post.

And we can all relate. Even Bob Ryan and myself.

In fact, a few years ago, when Ryan attended, my first words to him were, “My favorite NBA team of all time was the 1986 Boston Celtics.” He took it from there.

On Monday, Ryan will get to walk into the glittering, brand-spanking-new NSSA Hall of Fame for a reception. I can’t wait to see the look on his face. It will probably be the same look of awe last year’s winner, Rick Reilly, wore when he and sidekick Gene Wojciechowski of Chicago took their first steps inside.

Maybe Ryan and I will talk again. If we do, we’ll relate again.

Why? Because it just doesn’t matter what level we’re on. He does the same thing I do pretty much every day of the year: He goes to ballgames for a living.

Heck, he’s like me. He’s a SPTSWRTR.

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Contact Ronnie Gallagher at 797-4256 or rgallagher@salisburypost.com .